


In All Kinds of Weather

by Rosewood_Writes



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mutual Pining, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-08-30 04:12:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16757440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosewood_Writes/pseuds/Rosewood_Writes
Summary: Assan and Dorian steal a romantic moment during a winter storm.





	In All Kinds of Weather

Dorian shuddered as a breeze swept into the tavern from the open door. His heart started beating a tad faster when he spotted the Herald standing in the doorway, looking around with a smile as he lowered the hood of his thick winter coat. Iron Bull called from his usual spot, waving for the elf to see him. Assan waved back, eyes flicking briefly over at Dorian before he joined the qunari and his gang. With a slight pout, Dorian returned to his drink.  
“Will you ever work up the courage to speak to him again, Darling?” A woman tutted from behind him. Dorian spun in his seat and scowled slightly when he saw Vivienne helping herself to the barstool beside him, crossing her legs as she sat down. “Or will you just continue to oggle him helplessly from afar?”  
“I haven’t the faintest idea what you are referring to,” Dorian sniffed, taking another generous sip from his mug. He cast another quick glance over at Assan, feeling heat flush to his cheeks when he saw that the elf was already looking over at him.   
“Please, the two of you think that this little thing you have is invisible to everyone else. I know a longing glance when I see one, Pavus,” Vivienne smiled graciously as the bartender set a goblet of wine before her. “Thank you, Dear.”  
“I’m afraid you lost me.” Dorian returned his gaze to the woman next to him, scowling more when he saw the smirk playing upon her lips. How dare she accuse him of lusting after the inquisitor? Sure, they had an undeniable chemistry, and every time the elf spoke, shivers went down his spine. But that meant nothing to him. It was fine to look, but there was nothing there to truly act upon.  
“Please, the way he speaks of you when you’re not around? The way you watch him leave and enter the room? You’re smitten with the man. It’s dreadfully obvious you two pine for each other. Get over there and say something to him.”  
“I’ll do no such thing,” Dorian muttered and downed the last of his drink. He rose from his seat at the bar and pulled his coat back on. Vivienne scoffed as he pulled on his gloves and started for the door.  
“If you won’t, then one of us will do it for you,” Vivienne called after him. Dorian gritted his teeth at the sound of her taunting words. What did she care about their relationship? It was strictly professional, and would remain as such unless Assan suggested otherwise. The last thing Dorian wanted was to snivel over an unrequited love.   
He opened the door, pulling his hood over his face as he stepped into the blizzard outside. As he stepped out into the storm, a voice from behind caught his attention.  
“Leaving so soon?”   
Dorian turned around, heart skipping a beat as he spotted Assan in the doorway, halfway through pulling his coat back on. The door shut behind him, and the warm firelight from the tavern faded.   
“Needed some fresh air,” Dorian said.  
“Mind if I join you, then? Iron Bull is already to the point where he’s mixing up names again. Figured I'd make a break for it while I had the chance.” Assan smiled at him, just enough to make Dorian’s cheeks burn despite the nipping snow. How dare he be so perfect, so innocently sweet with those big green eyes?  
“I suppose not,” Dorian folded his hands behind his back. Assan pulled his hood on and motioned for him to follow. Curious. Drian followed him up the stairs to the battlements, a curious frown creasing his brow. What was he up to?  
“Come on!” Assan grabbed his hands and tugged him along, that smile on his face widening when Dorian resisted. “I don’t bite that hard, I promise. It’s just a walk.”  
“In this weather? You’ll turn the both of us into icicles.” Dorian could feel the blush on his cheeks, though whether that was from the three glasses of wine he’d had in the bar, or something else, he couldn’t tell anymore.   
There were no guards on the wall. Odd, but Dorian didn’t find it too out of place. They were all likely taking refuge in one of the towers, out of the bitter cold. Though the worst of it had abated, the temperature had continued to drop. Giant icicles hung off the battlements, and giant piles of snow drifted to either side of the wall.  
Assan grabbed hold of Dorian’s arm as they walked. Every few seconds, he would give it a little tug to keep him moving. Dorian followed sluggishly, longing more and more for the warmth of his quarters, and the last few glasses of wine left in the bottle under his bed beside his book. But his curiosity got the best of him as the elf continued to lead him on through the snow.   
“Where in the world are you taking me?” Dorian asked as they entered the next tower. Assan smiled knowingly but said nothing. He motioned to the two chair by the fire that was roaring in the hearth. Two bottles of wine sat in a basket on the table between them.   
“I had offered you a drink the other night, but we didn't end up getting the chance. I’m a little late now, but I would enjoy your company, if you’re willing,” Assan took his coat and hung it on the rack. Dorian slipped his jacket off and followed him to the chairs, a small smile twitching at his lips.   
“And the tavern wasn’t on your mind when you thought of getting drinks?”  
“Like you said, they ran out of the good wine,” Assan said as he picked up the bottle of wine and poured it into the two glasses. He handed Dorian a glass as he took his seat.   
“Fair enough,” Dorian sat back in his chair, smiling as he took a sip from his glass. “Though, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you went out of your way to get me alone. Is there something you wished to say to me that you couldn’t say earlier, Inquisitor?”  
The victorious smirk on Assan’s face faded, replaced by a red flush in his cheeks that Dorian was sure wasn’t from drink or the cold. Oh, how the tables had turned! It seemed it was Dorian’s turn to play the flirt.  
“I- well, yes, actually,” Assan stammered, hiding his flustered face behind his glace for a moment.   
“Are you… blushing?” Dorian sat forward in his seat. Assan’s ears betrayed his attempt to collect himself, turning as bright as a beet. He chuckled, delighted at the sight. “You are, aren’t you?”  
“You’re an ass, Pavus,” Assan jeered, sticking his tongue out at him.  
“Careful where you point that tongue,” Dorian purred. Assan sat forward in his seat. He placed a single finger under Dorian’s chin. His green eyes looked down at his lips for just a second before he locked eyes with him.   
For what felt like ages they just sat there, suddenly lost for words. Dorian felt the heat rising to his face the longer Assan hovered there. His stomach was in knots, but his head felt lighter than air. Why did he affect him this way?  
Slowly, Assan’s finger wandered up his jaw, stopping to cup his cheek in his hand. Dorian dared to raise a hand, tracing the red markings that ran along his cheeks, flowing perfectly with the contours of his face. Maker, he could stare at them all day, drink in the sight of him like water.   
With a sudden rush, Assan closed the distance between them, crashing his lips into Dorian’s. Surprised by the sudden movement, Dorian sat back in his seat, pulling Assan closer by the collar of his shirt. A soft moan escaped his lips as the elf nibbled gently on his lower lip.   
The chair tumbled backwards, spilling them onto the floor. Assan didn’t seem to care as he pinned him to the floor, one hand cupping his face, the other planted firmly on his chest. With fumbling, eager fingers, Dorian started to unbutton the elf’s shirt. Assan pulled away for just a moment, out of breath.   
“This place is hardly romantic, Dorian.”  
“Not what you had in mind when we walked through the door, Inquisitor?” Dorian pulled him down into another kiss, his heart racing. Whether this was what he truly wanted, he wasn’t sure. All he wanted was to taste those lips, hear that little moan again.  
“The kiss, yes. But this, not so much. Should I stop?”  
“Maker, no,” Dorian laughed breathlessly. “But perhaps a change of scenery is in order? I was thinking your quarters might do nicely.”  
Assan laughed, giving him one last kiss before he hauled himself off the floor, “My quarters it is, then.”


End file.
